Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The day Jinx’s life changes irrevocably, she’s lazing around the docks without a goal in mind. She’s supposed to be resting for her next mission, letting her body heal from being stabbed by one of those pesky Firelights last go around. Next time she gets her hands on Ekko’s little soldiers she’s going to break one leg for each day she’s had to be on bed rest. They stabbed right through her abdominal tattoo! Rude.

Technically, she’s supposed to be back at home base right now, ‘recuperating’. Well she’s plenty recouped and about going insane from boredom, so she’s just going to forget about that little order. Instead, she’s playing hide-and-seek with this really hilarious thug whose upset she stole part of his arm. Well, his modded arm, not his flesh one. She doesn’t go around stealing flesh.

It’s his fault for cornering her in that alleyway, so now she’s punishing him by forcing the poor idiot to search all over the city for her. A pretty stupid quest honestly, cause when he finds her she’s just gonna shoot him straight in his face.

So she’s leaning back against the sand, hidden by several large crates and catching some sun when Marcus enters her perception. She’s memorized pretty much everyone’s footsteps so she can identify a threat to Silco even when she’s up in his rafters. Marcus always stomps around like the self-important prick that he is. As the resident kept pig she’s not allowed to harm him, but it’s a mighty hard temptation sometimes. She brings her legs in towards her body, curling up so she takes less space and Marcus likely won’t see her behind the crates.

“Did she survive?” yep that’s Marcus’ voice, little squealer seems to be wandering around the wrong side of the river.

“Yeah, she survived alright. Girl gives as good as she gets.” Replies a voice she doesn’t recognize, accompanied with a rather unfortunate coughing fit. They should get that checked out. Who are they even talking about? Some lady enforcer who survived a scuffle?

“I don’t even know why you care. It’d be better for you if she died, at least then you’d be fully gone and free from Silco finding out.” Now Jinx’s ears are pricked, focusing much more intently on the conversation. Was Marcus supposed to kill someone for Silco? He’d be pretty fucking pissed if he found out Marcus was developing morals this far into his bloody career.

Marcus lets out a forceful breath. “Just keep an eye on Stillwater.” He replies, voice brusque.

“She’s Vander’s kid, I’d be stupid not to.”

She comes back to herself with sand in-between her fingers and blood splattered against her pants. An enforcer she doesn’t know is laid out on the bank of the river with three different bullet holes, all in his face. His skull’s more slush and shards than anything now, pulpy and dark. Jinx cranes her head sideways, catching sight of Marcus, who is panting with the effort of trying to free his hand from the knife that she’d stabbed through it. He’s pinned to one of the larger crates like a bug, struggling with his other remaining legs. The rest of his legs don’t seem to be doing to good either way, bent at awkward angles and twitching uselessly against the sand. Jinx drags her feet as she walks towards him, kicking up sand almost playfully before settling down in a squat to be eye level with Marcus.

His stupid giant eyebrows are twitching in pain, eyes wet and teeth gritted.

“Sorry about that Marcus!” She chirps cheerfully, pulling out the knife Silco gave her for her birthday from her waist pouch.

“I know it’s rude to interrupt” she continues casually “But you were having such an interesting conversation with your friend over there!” She gestures vaguely in the direction of the body which is already attracting gulls and crows. Marcus pales.

“So interesting, in fact, that I’d like to add my own contributions. Some fleshing out stuff, world building, you know?” She presses the tip of her knife against Marcus’s stupid fucking mustache.

“Basic stuff, who, what, where, that kind of thing.” She moves the knife up to his cheek, directly beneath his eye. She’s careful not to put any pressure on the blade. “Let’s start with who you have in Stillwater that you’re not supposed to.”

Marcus swallows, sweat dripping down his forehead. “Jinx, I saved her, okay? I was supposed to kill her, you should be-” Jinx presses down. Marcus screams, reflexively trying to bring his other hand up to his eye before the pain of his broken elbow makes him drop that idea pretty quickly.

“Relax, piggy. I didn’t stab hard enough to cut your eye up. However, if I curve it just so…” She trails off, quirking her head at the enforcer. He doesn’t reply, clearly too busy trying to get ahold of himself through the pain.

“Alright, so when you say ‘her’ you mean…?” She asks patiently, waiting for Marcus to steel himself enough to reply.

“Violet.” He grits out hoarsely. Jinx’s hand spasms, the shriek of memories briefly whining through her ears like a siren. She moves the knife away from his eye, not wanting to accidentally poke it out.

“So, so instead of killing her you put her behind bars? When-when was this huh? When we were kids?” Her voice is starting to shake, her demeanor becoming less controlled. Marcus seems to perceive the change, casting his eyes at the ground in something resembling shame.

“She would have died that night.” He mutters, and Jinx leans back to laugh. She clutches her forehead, still cackling but with tears in her eyes.

“Oh how noble! I’m sure no one even blinked at sending a fourteen year old kid into the slammer, huh?” She shakes her hands in front of her, swatting away any words Marcus might have replied with. “No, don’t answer that, I don’t want to hear your excuses.” Flipping her knife a couple times, Jinx leans forwards into Marcus’s space.

“I just wanna hear your screams.”

---

Stillwater is hard to get to. She has to commandeer a rowboat and paddle past all the trash floating in the river in near darkness. To add injury to insult, the stab wound from the Firelight kid is starting to bother her since she aggravated it on the bank with Marcus and the enforcer. By the time she reaches the rocky shore of the prison island, she feels sick with fear, hope and some slight blood loss. Climbing up the sheer rock face gave her too much time to think about what she was doing. Had she functionally just betrayed Silco? She’d killed his pet, and now she was going to rescue her sister who he probably would prefer to stay unrescued. Or dead. In fact, when did she become Vi’s knight in shining armor? She’d abandoned her, even if she had been taken by Marcus afterwards.

Your sister’s been in prison for five years. Said Vander, formless but not voiceless. Jinx grit her teeth and swung her body onto a small ledge. Fuck. She couldn’t just leave Vi rotting in here. She takes a breath, patting her stomach to try and ascertain if she’s still losing blood. Her hand comes up slick. Ruh roh.

Oh well. Couldn’t exactly turn back around for a bandage. Jinx pulls as many explosives from the pouch she’s haphazardly brought with her after disassembling Marcus. It’s definitely going to be enough to blow the shit out of the wall, but by the time she gets into the prison guards are going to be alerted. And what if she accidentally collapses Vi’s cell? Mylo shakes his head at her, pipe sticking out from his body like a nail.

Don’t want to risk sending her with us, JINX. He sneers, watching her with disgust. Jinx looks away, thinking rapidly. Maybe if she just uses her littlest bomb, and then goes from there? Yeah, that’s safe now.

She delicately places her chosen bomb on the ledge, jumping off and onto a nearby jut of stone. Now with a little luck, she won’t blow herself off the side of the island. Jinx crosses her fingers.

In some ways having a little more than half of the prison population after her head had its perks- for example, she got to hang out in the staff infirmary by herself because the other two were filled up with the shitstains she sent there. The privacy was nice.

Not really worth the constant irritation and grievous injuries, but there wasn’t much she could do about those. Not getting into fights wasn’t really an option anymore, not with her reputation, age, and gender.

Not that Vi would take anything back- if she was being honest with herself the constant violence was at least a good distraction- the burn of her muscles and the pounding of her heart, and yeah, even the fucking pain of her bones breaking- it was enough that for just a few minutes she could completely lose herself in the physical.

Whatever. It wasn’t even her fault this time technically. Nover was really becoming a problem with the whole ‘trick and bribe a bunch of arrogant fresh faced newbies into ganging up on her’ thing- she missed the days when he dared to try his luck with her by himself.  Goddamn coward.

Vi let out a huff, glaring at the harsh fingers of the nurse as her thread looped through the bloody punctures in her skin, needle posed over the words inked over her heart.

“Don’t fuck that shit up.” She growled, voice stiff rough from the fight. The nurse, a woman with graying straw colored hair and a hard face snorted in reply. Vi felt her hands clench even as the motion sent a sharp burst of pain through her swollen wrist.

“Seems like you did a pretty good job of that yourself there Mouse.”  Vi valiantly resisted the urge to deck the woman who currently had a sharp piece of metal underneath her skin. Most of the other prisoners no longer called her that since she had a pretty good way of dissuading them, but the staff had yet to stop, no matter how many guards she put into the emergency room.

“Weird Tattoo anyway.” The nurse added, though Vi could feel her slowing her movements in return. Vi didn’t especially care what other people thought of her tattoos, and she definitely couldn’t give less of a shit what opinion a goddamn Piltie had about them.

And anyway, Powders name over her heart was actually part of a set- the five bellow her breast and directly over her ribs. It was symbolic in a way that made her vaguely nauseous and heartsick to think about, so mostly she didn’t.

“The Warden still gonna send his people to kick my ass after this?” Violet asked lowly, her heartrate increasing despite her best efforts to remain calm. It was stupid to be afraid of that shit- it was inevitable, and anyway, all she had to do was endure it and then it was over. And yet every time she heard the wardens iron staff slamming across stone she couldn’t help but feel like she was fourteen and terrified all over again.

The nurse shrugged boredly, eyes narrow with concentration as she finished the last stich. Vi held back a small sigh of relief at the halt of the pain, resisting the urge to rub her hand across Powders name like she usually did- that was going to be annoying while she healed.

“If they don’t wait for you to at least stop wasting our resources from this stunt before putting you back in here then I’m going to be having words with em’.”  She replied gruffly and Vi nodded her head slightly in response, muscles relaxing slightly. That made sense- besides, how could they punish her for a fight she didn’t even start this time?

…

Probably easily enough actually, it’s not like they needed their excuses to make sense, she was the perfect example of that- a minor sent to a maximum security jail meant for the worst of the worst, the source of her incarceration was literally filled in fucking blank.

“Well-“ Vi’s words were abruptly cut off, a distant rumble filling the air and vibrating the room, causing dust to fall down from the ceiling. Immediately afterwards the emergency lights turned on with a high pitched whine, and the room was suddenly much more ominous lit by red light.

Vi and the nurse met each other’s eyes, for once united in their shared wariness. The last time that particular alarm went off it was because a prisoner snuck in some shimmer and proceeded to literally not figuratively rip five guards and three inmates limb from limb.

“I’m going to go see what’s going on- I’m locking the door and you are gonna stay here and not touch anything- If the guards catch you with a goddamn scalpel after this is over I’m going to catch shit which means you’re gonna have to have Ebron piece you back together after the wardens done with you, got it kid?” Vi made a face or disgust, her nose wrinkling at the mention of the other nurse, and nodded gruffly. She hadn’t been about to do that anyway- it was easier to make or steal contraband when people weren’t expecting it anyway.

The door to the room was barely shut when another loud noise reverberated around the room- this time it was louder and thus distinctly closer sounding, and Violet realized with a cold feeling running down her spine that something was exploding.

Shit. Shit fuck. Buried under the stupid shitty rubble of Stillwater was not how she wanted to go remotely- if she was going to die crushed by concrete and rebar then she’d rather have just been squished bloody and broken along with Mylo and Claggor.

(But then who would look after Powder? Well, not that she looked after Powder anyway, did she? She fucking ran- left her, left her when she needed her the most- left her even though Vander’s fucking last words-)

Vi stumbled off the medical table, her entire body immediately protesting violently and dramatically at the motion. It felt like there was a bruise on every single part of her, and even though she’d been ensured that none of her sprained and broken ribs had pierced her lungs it still was kind of hard to believe. And that wasn’t even going into her fucking leg- she was hesitant to even classify it as ‘bruised’- it wasn’t broken, but seeing as a three-hundred pound giant had fucking stood on it for like two whole minutes- well.   Saying it looked and felt ‘bad’ was a bit of an understatement.

Carefully, Vi let her pant leg unroll fully, hiding the ‘overripe plum about to explode’ look of her leg from the word. That didn’t feel great either- every brush of the stiff fabric of her uniform catching against the burning inferno of her skin.

Whatever- if whatever was blowing this place to bits with bombs- and bullets maybe, if her ears were correct- was more likely to see weakness as an invitation to harm rather than pity.

Vi straightened up, hesitantly removing her good arm from the wall and cautiously balancing mostly on her right leg while still keeping her injured foot extended fully so it looked like she wasn’t. The sounds of fighting was agonizingly close now, and what the fuck, it sounded like whoever was breaking in had a fucking machine gun?

Vi hobbled over behind one of the wall columns- it would hardly protect her from more than two bullets, but standing in the middle of the room when someone was going around with a fucking machine gun sounded like a shit plan.

Silence for a few tense moments- and then-

The door to the infirmary crashed open horrendously, the poor thing barely attached to the wall by one hinge.

Dust and smoke crept into the room, some of which was ominously bright for some reason. Vi brought up both hands from her hiding spot, shoving the pain from her swollen wrist into that nebulous place she’d learned to tap into here. She liked to call it ‘Not Now!’

A shadow in the smoke grew more distinct as it approached- Vi kept her head barely peeked out to observe it- shorter than most people here, skinny with sharp angles, and long braids swaying from side to side. And oh yeah, a fucking big ass gun swinging idly from their skeletal hands.

“Hello..? …Vi?” Violet felt her body go numb at the voice- it was so fucking familiar- close to but not quite the same one she’d dreamed of every night for five years- and fuck, who else would break in here for- god please let it be her- please let her be alive-

Then her face emerged from the thick smoke and suddenly nothing else mattered.

Later Vi would compare the face of her sister from her memories to this one, how Powders plump cheeks still round with baby fat had turned thin and angular, how she’d somehow become lankier and more monkey-like in form, how her hair-once so short she couldn’t do anything with it but pin it back from her face with barrettes- was now long enough to swing like chains in messy twin braids.

Later she’d think about how stupid it was of her to rush out at her sister so suddenly, especially when her trigger finger was somehow worse now than it was when she was a kid. Not to mention how dumb she probably looked running full tilt at her sister only to almost collapse a step in because she completely forgot about her shitty leg.

But it didn’t matter- nothing, nothing in the fucking world mattered except the vulnerable naked look screaming out from her sisters oh so familiar wide grey eyes.  

Nothing mattered because when she clumsily stumbled into her Powder was solid- her skin covered in dust and her shirt crusted with blood and her collarbone sharp enough to cut steel. She was real and alive and fucking somehow here- she was here- she was here-

Violet let out an embarrassingly girlish whine that came straight from her chest, her eyes spilling over with hot tears and every inch of her shivering madly.

“P-Powder! I- Fuck! I’m so happy to see you- what are you even- I’m so so fucking glad you’re alive- I can’t- I’m sorry- I’m sorry, I’m sorry- I, I-I’m s-sorry!  I never should have fucking ran- I swear, I swear on our fucking parents I was just a-around the corner! I just needed- I shouldn’t have but I was w-weak and I- I saw that asshole, he had a k-knife ahhnnd I-“ Violet’s words- the ones she planned and mouthed to herself over and over and over and over and over and over again suddenly all wrong, suddenly not enough, not that she could even say them over her own helpless blubbering.

“-I was coming back! I was running, but fucking Marcus drugged me and- and they put me here and I fucking tried I tried so hard to escape and get b-back to you- please fucking believe me I didn’t- I shouldn’t have hit you or blamed you, it wasn’t your fault, it fucking wasn’t okay?! I just- I was so fucking stupid, you were just a kid and I- I’m so glad y-you’re fucking alive!” Violet gasped, crushing her sister even tighter to her chest despite the sharp stabbing pain in her own ribs, burying her head into Powders skinny little neck before jerking herself back so she could look into her sister’s eyes- her worried hand frantically hovering over her cheek.

“A-are you okay? Are you hurt? Is that your blood?!”

There are no words for the feelings that accompanies seeing Vi, fists out in that half-lazy way that meant she’d gotten the shit beat out of her and was forcing herself to get ready for the next punch. It wasn’t so much an emotion that filled her, but raw pain. Like being shot, over and over again. It’s agony.

Watching Vi stumble towards her drunkenly, eyes filling with tears, it felt like electricity. The type of jolt that sent your hair on end and kept your whole body rooted in one spot, too full of pain to move. Vi was taller now. Her hair was no longer slicked back, instead it hung over the right side of her face, the sides buzzed short. Her eyes were darker, and she had tattoos spread across her body like wires against a machine. She no longer looked like some scruffy half grown kid, she’d grown into a full person. Years of her life, and Jinx hadn’t seen any of them. Agony.

It's the hug that almost breaks her. How many times had she been hugged like that, head tucked into her elder sister’s shoulder and safely entwined in her arms? She can’t raise her own arms, can’t move, can’t speak, can only endure. And that’s what it is, feeling so much love. After years of knowing (knowing, knowing, knowing) that Violet hated her, this love is ripping her apart, splitting her at the seams. Powder was made for this. Jinx was not.

Vi’s voice is heavier now, lower, but still so fucking similar to how it sounds in her memories that it snaps Jinx out of her stillness. Tears begin to run down her face, increasing with each word that comes out of Violets mouth. They hit like hammer blows.

“P-Powder!” The name of the little girl left dead on the street. Agony.

“I’m so happy to see you”  “I’m so so fucking glad you’re alive” Jinx buries her head into her sister’s shoulder. Agony.

“I’m sorry- I’m sorry, I’m sorry-” Agony.

“-I was coming back!” Agony.

“It wasn’t your fault”

Jinx shatters. She can barely comprehend whatever Vi says next, too busy sobbing her heart out. She finally lifts her arms, pressing Vi to her like she’s trying to meld them together. She loves her so much, this is too much, too good, it’s not possible, it’s not real. It’s a fucking fairy tale, it’s her most pathetic daydream. Her sister, right by her side. Her sister, her sister her sister. She’d been coming back all along. Had been coming back. Would have come back if not for-

If not for Marcus.

The pure hate and rage that fills her feels almost uncontrollable. Why’d she have to have killed him so early, when he should have been suffering a lot longer? Five years’ worth of torture she was owed, and that fucking creature had gotten away with a couple stab wounds? Some eye removal?

She’s alerted from her vengeful thoughts when Vi pulls herself away, hand on her cheek. It’s so nostalgic it makes Jinx want to breakdown weeping forever, surrounded by dust and bullets.

Oh, wait. She needs to be listening to Violet.

“N-no.” she sniffles, trying to restrain her tears in the face of more practical musings.

“Probably Marcus’, he bled a lot. But, but that’s not important right now, we gotta get you outa here it’s not the most structurally sound hunk of rock in the world currently-” She pauses, stepping back from Vi reluctantly. Having a longer moment to look at her sister, she’s observing a couple things that may have not been immediately obvious.

“Hey wait what the fuck happened to you?” Vi was barely putting any weight on one leg, and her face was a mess of bruises which all seemed to be healing at different rates. Her prison top had been taken off and she was only in a tank top, with blood stains all over the left side of the garment. To put it succinctly, she looked like shit half dissolved in a puddle.

Jinx dropped her machine gun carelessly, ignoring the loud thunk as it hit the floor. She approached Vi cautiously, unsure of their dynamic, but wanting to be there for her. Maybe she could carry Vi out? Jinx gave Vi a thorough and worried look.

“N-no-… Probably Marcus’, he bled a lot. But, but that’s not important right now, we gotta get you outa here it’s not the most structurally sound hunk of rock in the world currently-” Powder explains, her voice still horse with tears, her eyelashes clogged with a few see-through drops.

She sounds different than Vi would have pictured, a dockwater accent lingering at the ends of her words in a way it hadn’t when they were kids. Violet tries to quickly calculate the amount of people Vander was on good terms with down there, going through her knowledge of which her sister would have trusted enough to spend so much time with them that she shares their accent.

She can think of a few- Vander had a lot of people who owed him more than taking care of his last ‘living’ (read: not in jail) kid. She’s not sure why Powder would go to them rather than someone from the Last Drop or even just scrapping by with Ekko.

Powder stops, taking a slow step back from Vi- one that immediately sends an embarrassing pang of longing through her, despite the fact she’s still close enough that she can count the blood flecks on her sisters hair.  

“Hey wait what the fuck happened to you?” Powder asks, the ‘fuck’ startling Vi a little for some reason, despite the fact that it makes perfect sense that Powders saying that now at this age. And it’s not like she never swore before anyway, just not so casually.

Apparently concerned with Violets physical state- which is, admittedly, not great- Powder just completely drops her fucking machine gun (who the fuck taught her how to shoot one of those??) like the doubtlessly heavy and expensive piece of metal is nothing more than trash.

It makes Vi weirdly emotional, that Powder doesn’t even need to think about which she cares about more, especially knowing how much her sister used to value all of her weapons and gadgets.

Powder takes a few steps towards her, hands lifting half-heartedly towards her like she wanted to reach out and help but didn’t know whether or not she could (or whether or not Vi would still let her).

Violet swallows before giving her sister a shaky but genuine smile. God no matter what else she’s feeling it’s hard not to smile- the sheer fucking joy every inch of her is literally-(she’s still shaking)-vibrating with is almost too much for the edges of her bruised mouth to hold.

“You know me, always getting into fucking fights with the bigger guy-“ She laughs a little, almost an exhale, still riding high on the absurdity of explaining her day, her problems, her life to her very alive sister.

“-I should be okay to get out of this shithole, but I- I might need to lean on you a little bit.” It hurts her a bit to admit that too- it’s been actual years but somehow the instinct to stand strong and invincible in front of her little sister at all costs still lingers. Still, her pride is not worth the both of them getting caught- the idea of Powder even being looked at by some of the fucking creeps in here makes her want to tear her own jaw out.

Vi’s smile tugs a matching one onto her own face. It’s shaky and shy and not at all wide and bloody like the ones she used to throwing out on the battle field. Always getting into fucking fights with the bigger guy, yeah that was accurate. A fourteen year-old Vi had not been afraid to start it with hostile strangers, competing thieves, members of Silco’s gang. Silco’s presence in her mind feels like a betrayal in front of Vi, who probably hates him, so Jinx shoves the thought of him down. Later, she’ll untangle what finding her sister means for her relationship with her da-with Silco. Fuck. This was going to be messy. It was going to be even messier if she ever found the people who’d hurt her sister. If they weren’t already a) massacred by her when she’d been shooting indiscriminately to get into the prison or b) already half dead from going head to head with Vi of all people. She read ‘fuck off or I’ll kill you’ now more than she ever had.

“Lean away.” She laughs, wiping tears and soot from her face with her forearm.

Jinx wraps her arm around Vi, letting her shoulder rest underneath the other girl’s armpit to hold her up. She feels she probably could have carried Vi out, but fuck if she doesn’t understand doing things the hard way to prove yourself. Besides, Vi doesn’t really know her too well yet. Doesn’t know she regularly hefts weapons her own weight. Doesn’t know that she drags bodies around all the time. Jinx not Powder. Is that who her sister is looking at with kind eyes, someone who’s long gone? Powder, not Jinx.

Jinx leads them through the halls she’s reduced to rubble, trying to speed them up subtly whenever they pass bodies riddled with bullet holes. Fuck. This was a bad ‘I haven’t seen you in five years’ impression. Hopefully Violet was too distracted by the general destruction to notice.

There’s only one elevator currently functioning, and it’s definitely not the most trustworthy contraption considering the overall structural damage to the building. She glances hesitantly at Vi.

“Sooo…option one, we pray that the elevator takes us up several floors without breaking and sending us falling to our deaths.” She pauses. Option one is not very promising. “Or option two, I blow us a new door right here.” She gestures to the wall with the arm that isn’t holding Vi up.

“Problem with option two is that I think we’re juuust above water level, so if I calculated wrong we might get a little wet.” Well, the rush of the water coming through the hole would probably push them back until they were against the opposite wall, and they’d be unable to move until the entire surrounding area was full of water and there was no current. So perhaps a bit riskier than she was portraying it, but they really didn’t have time to get into the nitty gritty.

Another issue with option two was that Jinx felt very hesitant using bombs around Vi, especially to break down part of a structure. Now would be a very, very bad time for a flashback or voices or hallucinations.

“Take your pick!” She finished semi-cheerfully.

Powder leads the two of them through the bullet riddled halls of Stillwater swiftly, looping around piles of collapsed rubble and torn apart bodies full of metal casings.

Violet glances at one of the guards corpses- Harrin, an asshole with the worst and most annoying laugh she’d ever heard in her life, and the irritating habit of trying to break her fingers- she’s not sorry he’s dead but…she tilts her head subtly, trying to get a glimpse of her sisters expression, but all she can see is the top of Powders hair.

There was no way these were Powders first kills, not with the experienced way she’d carried her gun, not with how nonchalant she’s being right now. Violet feels a numb sort of sickness rush up from her toes and curl too cold and too thick in every crevice of her body. How many people had Violet killed at fifteen? Two, maybe three directly? This was…so much more than that. What did Powder have to do to survive? Who let her learn how to fight like this, so unlike Vander’s teachings- which could be, but usually weren’t, lethal?

With some force she pried the questions from her mind and put them away for later-she was the one who forced her sister in this position anyway- it was her job to do these kinds of things, and if she’d been there then this never would have even happened.

They stop cautiously in front of the massive steel elevator, and Vi swallows nervously. She does not particularly like the idea of going up through that thing.

 “Sooo…option one, we pray that the elevator takes us up several floors without breaking and sending us falling to our deaths.” Powder says, seemingly thinking something similar. “Or option two, I blow us a new door right here- problem with option two is that I think we’re juuust above water level, so if I calculated wrong we might get a little wet.” Powder finishes, sounding less than confident about option two.

Vi stops herself from shifting uncomfortably at the thought of Powder using a bomb so close to her again. She recognizes that she’s probably learned how to use them better, given that she made her way all the way down here without collapsing the building on both their heads but…

Mylo’s hand sticking limply out from rubble flashes brightly through her head before she subtly presses more weight against her bad leg- allowing the sharp and almost nauseating pain of the action to clear the memory away.

It’s…it’s a lot to contemplate so quickly, especially given that if water does come bursting in then she doesn’t stand much of a chance surviving it. She’s been doing her level best to think about anything and everything but her injuries, but she has to admit that if she wasn’t doing well before than walking around with her level of wounds probably made things much worse. Her leg is throbbing like it’s got a constant current of electricity through it, her wrist is uncomfortably sore and if she nudges it even slightly- which she’s been doing constantly because she’s been hobbling down a war-torn labyrinth- then it sends up a sharp burst of agony that feels like it’s punching her from behind her eyes. Her ribs are like glass against her skin, awfully shifting and tearing like a bunch of shrapnel through a leather bag. Her nose aches, her stomach twinges at every breath, and if they haven’t already then her stiches are coming out soon.

Trying to swim through an active current would probably kill her.

But then, those elevators are shaky enough on a good day- she has absolutely little doubt that they’re barely a thread away from imploding completely now. She’s not sure how Powder knows how high they are compared to water level- some sort of gadget maybe? That seems like it’d be complicated; but then, she doesn’t doubt her sister’s ability to create something like that either.

“Take your pick!” Powder exclaims sounding slightly manic in a way that’s somewhat strange to associate with her. Vi clenches her jaw slightly, deciding to just make a decision already and stop worrying.

Blowing the wall open would get them out faster, and even if they were underwater it wasn’t impossible for Powder to still be able to escape, whereas and elevator crash would very much take both of them out for sure.

“Uh, the wall I guess? Not too many great options here.” She laughs a little shakily, before unfortunately unwinding her arm from around her sisters and stumbling over to the opposite wall.

“Do your thing sis.” She grins, trying to inject enough genuine affection and pride into her voice that it completely washes out the fear.

Her prediction on the level of water between them and the surface is correct, thank god, so they get away with drawling through the shattered walls and granite rocks. Jinx raises to her tip toes, searching for her boat in the thick mist. Her rowboat has not been particularly well hidden, but luckily most of the guards and enforcers are dealing with the collapsing prison or are dead already. She can’t imagine the political consequences releasing/killing half the criminals in Stillwater, but she’s not looking forward to them. Half of Silco’s enemies are down here, or were anyway.

Jinx is still coasting off the high of having been called ‘sis’, so she’s in pretty good humor until she realizes she’s going to have to paddle the stupid rowboat with two people in it instead of one. No way she can ask Vi for help, not when Vi seems to be holding every part of her body like they’re about to fall off. Boy, she’s not going to enjoy stitching her own sister up, not when her methods are ‘sloppy and medically dangerous’.

She motions silently towards the rocky shore, intent on staying silent until they are in the river and hidden by the fog and night. She creeps to the boat, wincing when she observes it’s insides. Blood stains the wooden plank that serves as a bench/seat, and one of the paddles has disappeared into the water. She probably should have stacked it more carefully instead of just throwing herself onto land and racing towards the nearest cliff face. Oh well, live and learn.

Jinx steps into the rowboat, holding out her arm for Vi to leverage herself in. She’s frankly getting pretty worried about the state of Violet’s wounds, but she has no idea how to express that. When Silco’s hurt she kind of just hovers near him, silently guarding him from any threats. And when she’s hurt Silco benches her from missions and tries to bring her, like, an insane amount of food. Hey you got shot, will a meal proportioned for a fucking seven foot giant help? Weirdo.

She grabs the singular oar, pushing them off into the river with a mighty wrench of the paddle into the gravel. She keeps herself somewhat focused and silent until they’re a good distance from Stillwater before she rests the oar, turning slightly to Vi before swearing.

“Fucker!” She grunts angrily, pressing her hand against her abdomen. That stupid fucking stab wound has only grown more irritated throughout her little adventures and now that she’s no longer focusing on her mission the pain is starting to sit in the forefront of her mind. Why didn’t she have the foresight to bring bandages??

“We’re probably going to need to hole up for awhile when we get to the docks.” She confesses mournfully to Vi. More bedrest…but as a benefit, bedrest where she gets to catch up with her long-lost sister. So not all bad.

The trip to the rowboat Powder stashed is a vague blur after they blow their way out of Stillwater. Part of it is that Vi’s stiches do open and she’s already lost a bunch of blood, part of it is trying to block out unpleasant memories that the explosion brought back, some of it is the sheer incredulousness of being fucking outside- and then the retrospective slap in the face of the realization that she hasn’t been outside that shitty fucking compound in five entire years. A lot of it is Powder. Just- every time Vi catches sight of her out of the side of her eye it takes her breath away.

So many nights she’d spent lying awake on the cold floor of her cell- bleeding and hungry and half-crazy with pain and misery, collapsing over the lead weight of the knowledge that her sister was dead- dead just like the rest of her family- that she’d fucking abandoned her, that Powder’s last moments were absolute betrayal and agony, that Silco got to kill another one of her people. That she didn’t die standing in front of the only person she had left in that alleyway- sometimes that felt like the cruelest part of all.

But now! Now here Powder was! Breathing and talking with those same watchful fog grey eyes, holding Vi up with the same spindly hands that she’d watched fiddle with scraps a million times.

She was trying really hard not to just burst into messy tears, which wasn’t helped at all by her wounds, which were getting irksome to the point where it was becoming impossible to ignore.

Seeing the little boat was a bit of a wakeup though, seeing as it was literally fucking covered in blood.

Vi blinked, feeling a spike of unease crawl its way through her spine. Did Powder lie about being injured? It- it was disturbingly possible. Back when they were kids Violet could always tell when Powder was trying to deceive her or hide the truth, but…well, they’d both changed. For all she knew her sister had completely different tells.

Violet peered at her sister as she pushed them off from the island, carefully taking in the blood staining her shirt. Was she just tricking herself with her own anxiety in thinking that there was more of it there? Were Powders shoulders stiff with pain or was she just not comfortable with her back to Violet anymore?

 Powder snaps her out of her mother-henning by half-turning to face her before flinching in pain.

 “Fucker!” Powders swears, which is just as weird as it had been the first time- but Violet doesn’t have much time to think about it, eyes focused and steely as she flicks from place to place on her sisters body, the concern in her gut enough to start her fingers shaking again even though she just got them to stop.

Powder presses her own hand against her abdomen, looking mildly disgruntled at best, and Violet feels her panic rise.

“We’re probably going to need to hole up for awhile when we get to the docks.” Powder admits, like she just barely managed to convince herself of the validity of the idea.  

Violet presses her elbow lightly into her ribs to stop herself from completely blowing this out of proportion and start yelling.

“Yeah that’s probably a good idea…are- um. Why didn’t you tell me you were hurt before?” Violet asks, carefully making sure she keeps her voice calm even as she starts to rip of a section of her pants to use as bandages. They were only rubbing painfully against her shit leg anyway, and if she has to sit here across from her possibly-bleeding-out-sister doing nothing for another second she’ll snap like a femur.

She hands Powder the excess fabric as casually as she can, trying in vain to drag her eyes magnetic concentration away from her sister’s hip before she makes things too weird. Powder hadn’t even loved Violets overbearing worry five years ago, doubtlessly now she’s going to find it more annoying. Not that, that, yknow, stops her from fretting or anything.

Jinx is a bit entranced by the speckles of blood against her skin and the blue of the tattoos. Thank god she’d never used the smoke beacon, cause there’s no way Vi would have seen it from prison. She drags her eyes from the contrasting colours at the tone of Violets voice, immediately concentrated on her older sister. The attentive, worried expression on her face reminds Jinx sharply of childhood. It settles weirdly in her stomach, pleasant and painful. No one fussed over Jinx, she took care of herself on missions. Hell, half her co-workers were rooting for a bullet to catch her, she hadn’t exactly made a lot of friends around the office. Having someone to look at her like that... it made her throat feel heavy. But really, it was Powder Vi was thinking of. As a kid she’d have melted down like it was the end of the world if she’d have been stabbed. Thinking in that perspective makes her flip the scenario, her own reaction if Vi had ever gotten this hurt when she was only fourteen. If Vi had come back home looking how she does now Powder might have fainted.

The injured, shaky way Vi speaks alerts several warning bells in Jinx’s head, and she leans closer, eyes flicking up and down Vi’s body. Were the wounds getting to be too much? The blood on the top of Vi’s undershirt looks like it’s spread, like the shirt is starting to soak through. Shit. She’s not used to keeping an eye on anyone’s health. Is Vi going to bleed out? Do people bleed out at the same rates? How much time did she have?

When she process’s Vi’s words her mind couldn’t be farther from her own injuries.

“Oh, uh. I dunno just didn’t really think of it.” She responded distractedly, blinking when Vi tears off her own pant leg and passes the fabric into her hands. She lets out a yelp at the sight of Vi’s leg, which is swelling and turning alarming shades of pink, red and purple.

“Your leg!” She exclaims, panic running through her blood like rushing water. She holds the fabric she was just given, before decisively pressing it to Vi’s upper chest area. That was where the cut was right?

“Did someone stab you in the tit?” She asks, laughing nervously. What was she supposed to do with a leg like that? She had supplies to fix up cuts and gunshot wounds, not broken bones. There was no way she could go to Silco or any of his medics for help, not with Vi as the patient.

“Oh, uh. I dunno just didn’t really think of it.” Powder says idly, gunmetal grey eyes flickering over Vi’s own body with a somewhat concerned expression. Violet wants to be irritated with that answer, but really it just made her more worried than before- what kind of life was her sister living if a stab wound didn’t even register to her?

Or was this more like when Powder was a kid and she got so focused on whatever she was colouring or tinkering with that she forgot to even eat?

“Your leg!” Powder yelps, snapping Vi out of her musings. She winces, opening her mouth to wave away the concern- it really looked worse than it was (probably)- but then Powders pressing the fabric Violet just gave her for her goddamn wound onto Vi’s own chest.

Vi silently gawks at the fucking gall, shifting slightly so she could rip her other pant leg’s fabric off with no little spite. She’ll fucking strip naked if she has to but she’s not letting her baby sister bleed to death five minutes after she finally found her again.

“Did someone stab you in the tit?” Powder asks with a shaky little laugh, her eyes focused and brow furrowed despite the lightness of her words. It’s a strange sentence, because even though ten year old Powder would never caught dead saying ‘tit’ she definitely would ask Vi incredulously if someone had ‘punched her in the boob?’

Vi smiles a little despite the seriousness of the situation, carefully nudging herself forward so she can wrap Powders hip while remaining still for her sisters own efforts.

Powders stomach is thin and wiry in a way she never was before, muscles carefully coiling around her pipe-cleaner bones. There are other scars there now, which Vi doesn’t love- but they were clearly cared for at least somewhat properly, so that’s good.

There’s also her tattoo’s- what she first took as abstract blue swirls are actually, under all the blood, blue clouds. It only takes Vi a few moments to realize the significance- not clouds, smoke- Powder tattooed Violets smoke signal onto her body.

It’s like someone’s standing on her chest instead of her leg- had her sister used it? Had she watched the bright blue smoke curl into the air and disappear without Violet ever even being able to see it?

Fuck. She should have been there.

Violet keeps her painful thoughts away from her face, using her amusement from her sisters earlier comment to keep up her smile. Her hands are careful as she wraps the make-shift bandage, one hand gently holding Powders opposite side to keep her steady as she goes. Her wrist complains somewhat about this, but it’s not really Vi’s priority now anyway.

“It was more of a slicing action actually, but basically.” Violet snorts, “-Dumbass tore up his damn tray to make a shiv instead of just using a fork.” She pauses again, trying to think of a more palatable way to describe the whole ‘leg’ thing. It’s a short list.

“The leg- uh, it’s not broken yknow? It’s just, kinda bruised…because some guy stood on it?” The last part comes out more questioning than she’d hoped.

Vi clears her throat.

“What about you? What happened to you that had you bleeding all over the boat before you even broke me out?”

It takes all of Jinx’s effort not to slap Violet’s hand away from her as she rips off her other damn pantleg and tries to place it onto her wound. She’s really, really not used to people grabbing her suddenly outside of battle, especially not near her stomach area. Sometimes Silco would grab her arm if she wasn’t paying attention, and she usually had to make sure she didn’t reflexively attack him as well.

Her stomach muscles tense at the feeling of Vi pressing the makeshift rag onto her cut, but she keeps her arms perfectly still, pressed firmly against her sister’s chest wound. Easy Jinx, easy.

Conversely, the knowledge that Vi was concerned enough to cut off both pant legs for her makes her eyes itch. When she begins wrapping the cloth around her waist Jinx has to keep her eyes wide open, so she doesn’t blink out tears. Fuck. Vi was being so careful, like Jinx was someone to be handled with care.

Jinx lets out a startled laugh at ‘slicing action’. Gross. Vi makes it sound like she was a slab of meat at the butchers. The following statements are a lot less lighthearted. How many times was Vi getting attacked by other prisoners? She had shiv opinions now?

“The leg- uh, it’s not broken yknow? It’s just, kinda bruised…because some guy stood on it?” Jinx swings her head up, staring at Vi incredulously. Fucking stood on it?? Who the hell did that in the middle of the fight? She imagines Vi on the ground, knuckles bloody and mouth opened in a scream as a man brings his foot down on her leg with a crunch. The visual image makes her feel physically sick.

“I hope you beat the shit out of that guy.” She hisses hoarsely, trying not to get too worked up.

Vi clears her throat. “What about you? What happened to you that had you bleeding all over the boat before you even broke me out?”

Jinx bites her lip, looking down at the floorboards of the boat where semi-dried blood is splattered in little pool shapes. There are a lot a ways she can answer that question even if she doesn’t lie, not all of them equally as honest. The idea of completely spilling the guts and telling Vi everything; why she got stabbed, who the firelights were, who she was working for-it makes her heart pound so fast it hurts. It makes her chest feel hot the way it starts to when she gets worked up. She absolutely can not. She just got Vi back, she couldn’t stand to lose her.

If you think the truth is going to lose her, prepare to lose her eventually pow-pow. Mylo grins smugly behind Vi, his white teeth stained with blood. Jinx closes her eyes hard. Not the time, not the time, not the time.

“Got stabbed.” She finally grits out, blinking her eyes open with effort. She focuses on Vi’s little VI tattoo instead of her eyes. “Killed Marcus. Opened up my stitches getting to Stillwater. Blew some bombs shot some guys, reunited with my long-lost sister.” She summarizes jokingly, smile a bit weak.

Powder’s face goes from almost ill with a protective sort of anger at Vi’s leg situation to eerily still when Violet asks her what happened to her. Alarm bells set off inside her head immediately at the way her sister hunches in on herself slightly, biting her lip.

For a moment she looks so fucking achingly young- and Vi’s reminded violently of the little girl she used to comfort with made up stories and shadow puppets on cracked brick walls.

Violet doesn’t want her sister to have been hurt deeply enough that even figuring out how to explain herself makes her look like this- doesn’t want her to have ever been hurt at all. She’s never wanted that, struggled so fucking hard against it- even when it was her that was doing the hurting.

She wants to take her sister in her arms and cradle her sharp angles and bird bones into her chest- wants to tuck her away somewhere warm and safe and close. She doesn’t want Powder to have been stabbed, even by accident and especially not in a way that has clearly traumatized her. If Vi could take it all away- every bruise and cut and discomfort- and keep it all for herself she would. That was how it was supposed to be- how it would have been, had Violet fucking stayed.

Powder would be fifteen and awkward and shy but brilliant and enthusiastic and herself. And yeah, maybe she’d still be a little fucked up, because she still lived in the Lanes and their parents still died and sometimes everyone had no choice but to go hungry or breathe air made of poison- but she’d be okay.

And she’s obviously not okay now. Powder’s breathing audibly increases and she snaps her eyes shut closed in a manner that’s almost painful. Violet’s heart hurts- if she’s seeing this right then her sister is having one of those horrible hyperventilating attacks that she used to have occasionally- especially after their parents were killed.

Violet saw the way her sister had minutely flinched when she’d touched her before- she wants to hug her so fucking badly, but would she even be comfortable with that?

“Got stabbed.” Powder gets out just barely through her clenched teeth, eyes finally opening and focusing vaguely on Vi’s face.

“Killed Marcus. Opened up my stitches getting to Stillwater. Blew some bombs shot some guys, reunited with my long-lost sister.” She adds the last part like a joke or an olive branch, though Violet’s still kind of focused on the ‘killed Marcus’ part of it all.

Like- holy shit? Wasn’t Marcus supposed to be somebody now? The greasy fucking rat was some important big wig with fancy badges and his stupid shitty mustache, and how the hell did Powder manage to even find him??

It’s not even that she’s…morally upset or anything- Vi had fantasized about shoving that fuckers nose bone back through his brain with her knee ever since she was fourteen but… Powder hadn’t been a fighter, hadn’t been a killer- she’d just wanted to build her bombs and trinkets and draw in peace. She just wanted her family to be proud of her. So she’d done stupid things sometimes, sure, but she’d never have wanted to- or even been able to kill someone.

But now it was barely a footnote. That couldn’t have been healthy- even Vander had been solemn about the lives he’d taken, and he’d taken a lot.

How the hell was she going to be able to help her sister now?

The entire rest of the boat ride is quiet and mercifully, short. Jinx has done her best to direct them to the more abandoned canals, sinking their rowboat as soon as they reach dry land. It’d do them no good to have anyone find it, stained with blood. Jinx is very aware she’s running up against a time limit. Silco generally doesn’t care about her whereabouts on her time off, unless she, say for example, killed two enforcers in broad daylight. One of which being the chief enforcer, the same enforcer Silco had bribed into his services. If she’s lucky the bodies will have just been discovered and he’s only now finding out, and if she’s not then he’s already begun searching for her. And well, her name isn’t fucking four leafed clover.

Jinx tears down some dusty canvas someone had been using to shelter their doorway from rain and shoves it over Vi’s head, wrapping it around her like a cloak. It’s probably full of spiders and damp with rainwater, but it’s much better than anyone catching sight of Vi’s distinctive hair.

She leads Vi by the hand, traversing only by alleyway and shadow. Most folks in the undercity are nocturnal, and it’s the beginning of the night so avoiding crowds is a careful process. By the time they make it to the dilapidated piece of rubble that is the crater, Jinx is ready to be done with stealth and just kick her way through anyone stupid enough to get in her way.

The crater is not Jinx’s first choice in hideout. It used to be a functioning part of the canals until it got literally blown up in a gang war when she was eleven, and now it was little more than crumbled buildings and a nest of shimmer addicts. They’re all hiding in their holes now, so the crater almost looks abandoned. Jinx pushes further in, pressing her hand tight to her stomach to avoid leaving a trail of blood. She’s pretty sure the wound isn’t bleeding anymore, but it hurts like it’s gushing either way.

The building she stops in front of used to be some sort of miniature fish market. It has gaping holes in the floor which she avoids. Most of the pink-eyes avoid this place since it looks so unstable. Cork, however, is playing solitaire against one of the shadowed walls. The older woman looks up at Jinx’s footsteps, eyes flicking briefly over to Vi’s hooded face. Jinx steps in front of her sister.

“Hey old lady, how’re the hips?” She asks with a sneer, briefly looking Cork up and down to make sure she’s not doing worse than usual. The shimmer shards growing on her chin and neck look painful, but don’t seem to have crawled any further up her face. Cork scowls.

“I see the mad dog is off it’s leash again.” She grumbles, ignoring Jinx’s previous comment. Jinx roles her eyes. Out of all her titles, ‘the Mad Dog of the Undercity’ is her favorite, if most painful, title. Not exactly the Hound of the Underground, but close enough to make her heart ache. Cork certainly does not say it with any fondness, which is fair enough. Old bat had beef with Silco ever since she’d quit his entourage. She’d been a damn good bodyguard in her good days, but accidentally shooting that kid had taken the fight out of her. She’d left Silco’s forces, but the near endless and free supply of Shimmer was not available to the common citizen. Cork had gotten hooked on the stuff in Silco’s employ in order to keep up with the competition (which of course were all taking shimmer), but leaving meant finding away to somehow pay the exuberant prices to keep the addiction fed. And Shimmer really did need it’s pound of blood, or you were looking at Shimmer shards, loss of time, near constant sickness and eventual death.

Jinx and Cork had been friendly when they’d worked together, or at least as friendly as either were capable of, and now they were in a weird grey zone. She was Silco’s, so Cork hated her. But she also brought Cork free shimmer and food from time to time to keep her alive.

“Least my barks as big as my bite.” She replied easily, really snapping her teeth at bite. Cork snorted, reluctantly amused.

“If your lookin to use your hideout, one vial for keeping my eyes closed about it, two for me to forget about your friend.” Jinx was tempted to mention that saying nothing about Vi costed Cork as much as it did keeping silent about herself, but she could hardly begrudge the woman.

“Sure. Don’t use it all at once.” She passed by Cork with a nod, making a note to bring her the three vials the next time she could get her hands on them. Cork knew she was good for them, so she let them pass silently, before returning to her game.

The hideout itself was pretty well hidden. One had to jump into one of the cavernous holes and find the door hidden in the dark, input the right password. Jinx pressed the last digit and shoved the door open, holding it so until Vi passed through and then shutting and locking it.

The inside of her little lair was crude, but it served its purpose plenty. The lights ran on the generator she’d built in the corner, and there was a large mattress and pile of pillows for sleeping. More importantly, it had two whole shelves full of medical supplies. This safehouse was usually her last resort if she felt she was wounded enough to hide from everyone, even Silco, so it was pretty well stocked. Jinx threw Violets bloody pantleg on the ground, rummaging through her crates and extracting her rolls of bandages with a little ‘ah hah!’

Turning to Vi Jinx set down a bottle of alcohol and her bandages, her stapler and vial of pain medicine. Having accomplished her goal, Jinx was momentarily self-conscious. What was Vi thinking, looking at this damp cavern with neon bright drawings scrawled across its walls. She had the odd impulse to assure her older sister that this was just her backup hidey hole, but she kept that to herself.

Vi’s first view of her home in five years is hazy at best. Her vision is fuzzy around the edges and her eyes keep wanting to shut prematurely, eyelids heavy in that familiar way that meant it was time to high-tail it back to Vander and have him take care of her. (well, that or that she had to go find somewhere nice and private so she could lick her wounds in peace without some fucking entrepreneur thinking they could take advantage of the blood she was covered in. Sometimes she’d even purposefully pissed off a guard so they could knock her out- then she’d always wake up in the last floor in an isolation cell, relatively safe.)

Not to mention once Powder puts a musty tarp over her head her already shit view is reduced to basically the floor under her feet.

Even still, things feel different. The docks had always been quiet, mostly filled with old people or desperate kids looking for somewhere off the grid to sleep, but now- now they’re dead silent.

She hears rats occasionally, or maybe an odd shimmer eyed straggler, but otherwise…

It’s war torn. Holes blown gaping and hungry into the grey cracked streets, buildings rubble- hell, the gill market that used to be here- the one that she’d gotten them banned from after she killed the fuck that broke Mylo’s arm- it’s not even remotely functioning. It’s fucking non-existent!

And it’s not surprising, not really, because Vander wasn’t here anymore to keep gang-conflict to a minimum, or to keep the enforcers tamed- so yeah, of course this was the type of shit that went down now.

It’s fucking awful. This place was supposed to be her home- supposed to be her world- and fuck, she’d wanted so badly for it to get better- for it to become the type of place that would let her sister keep her childhood rather than burn it into cigarette burns the way it had done to Vi.

But it was worse now. And yeah, look how well that had fucking turned out for Powder- the sister she supposedly would have done anything for.

Vi sniffed quietly, letting the rough calluses of her sisters bony fingers distract her. Let’s her mind focus in on the texture until its blank- until her ears went dead and her head numbed. It was something she’d figured out in her second year in prison, back when she’d been small enough that she hadn’t been able to give it as good as she got,  when she couldn’t stop crying and she missed hours of the day passed out from head trauma, back when fucking Ebron had been her nurse, and she’d been paralyzed on that stupid table, hands cuffed and wounds glistening. It had been a necessary skill- to not be inside herself then. To let what was going to happen, happen to something else.

She only snaps out of the quiet when her sister steps in front of her and talks. Powders voice is enough to make Vi raise her head slightly, peering out from the darkness of her makeshift hood at the woman in front of them.

She silently grimaces at the purple lines marring her skin. Fucking shimmer. Fucking Silco.

“Hey old lady, how’re the hips?” Powder asks casually, referencing some event or illness that Vi doesn’t have the context for. They know each other personally then?

The older woman sneers, winkles contorted with a grimace that looks more annoyed than actually angry.

“I see the mad dog is off its leash again.” She snaps, and Vi’s shoulders tense, her fist curling and itching for a fight despite the way her legs are barely keeping her steady. Her sister sure wasn’t a fucking ‘it’ or a dog or what the fuck ever, no matter how much she’d changed or how violent she’d become.

“Least my barks as big as my bite.” Powder returns with a clack of her teeth- and it’s, it’s almost something Mylo might say- though to less effect. Vi realizes haltingly that her sister could probably be legitimately threatening now.

The older woman snorts like it was a joke though, so maybe Vi’s taking things a bit too seriously.

“If your lookin to use your hideout, one vial for keeping my eyes closed about it, two for me to forget about your friend.” The woman comments, which explains what they’re doing here at least, even as it opens up a few hundred more questions inside Vi’s mind. Did Powder live alone? Fuck. Vi really hoped somebody had fucking at least helped her- did Vander’s legacy really mean so little to these fucking people?

“Sure. Don’t use it all at once.” Powder responds idly before moving forward, and Violet tries not to feel too weird about her sister trading in drugs- in shimmer specifically. Clearly the woman was already addicted, so more shimmer was all that was keeping her from a horrifying withdrawal so…Vi put it out of her mind.

Powders ‘hideout’ is as Powder as it gets. It’s dark and well-hidden, oh so achingly reminiscent of her sister’s ability to crawl into tiny little places and hide away from the world like a little blue furred rat. The dark walls are lit up with neon and those familiar explosive, expressive lines of hers. Her sister’s style has obviously improved and refined over the years, but it’s still easily hers- and Vi can’t help feeling a little relief at this. So much had change about her sister- it was really nice to see that at least one thing had stayed the same.

Vi slumps towards an empty section of the wall, trying to keep her trail of blood away from her sister’s bed and furniture, as rough as some of it is.

She sits down roughly enough that her leg screams painfully at her, but she ignores it with a clench of her teeth, far too tired. Sitting down somewhere quiet and safe like this was fucking godsend.

Powder sits in front of her swiftly, carefully putting down a surprisingly wide variety of medical supplies in between them.  That does and doesn’t bode well really- Powder having the resources to actually be able to get high-quality healing supplies meant reassuring things for her income at least, but then, it didn’t imply good things that she had needed to get this much stuff in the first place.

There’s a moment of awkward silence before Vi clears her throat enough so she can speak. Even still her voice is a bit slurred around the edges of her words, which isn’t great.

“Likin’ the digs sis- your arts gotten even better…I, um… You migh’ have to do me first.. before I can help you- I need ah’ few minutes.” She probably needs more than a few minutes, but she’ll push herself past that when the time comes.

Oh boy. Vi is looking worse and worse by the minute, and the sensation of panic that sends through Jinx is terrifying familiar. Except when Violet had come home from some convoluted scheme with black eyes and wheezing breath, Vander had been there to patch her up. Or Mylo, or Claggor or even Benzo if things were bad enough. It had never just been entirely Powder’s responsibility to make sure Vi didn’t keel over.

She’s not Powder though, she’s Jinx. She has the supplies, and she’s been wounded enough to have the know-how. So she stuffs the fear and surge of protective anger back into herself for later, when she can rage and shoot things and cover Vi with a blanket. Vi is going to be okay. There’s no earthly way she’s losing her sister after just having got her back. She’ll drag the devil out of hell if she needs to, but they are not getting separated again.

Jinx goes behind Violet, leaning down to drag her mattress so it’s directly behind her elder sister’s legs. She gently pushes Vi onto the ragged thing, fingers twitching slightly with worry.

“Yeah your first in line don’t worry, we’ll sew your head back on real quick.” She jokes, trying to make this easier on Vi. As for the other half of her statement, Jinx is content to ignore it. By the time they get through all of Vi’s wounds the girl certainly won’t be in any state of mind to hold a needle and surgical thread with any grace. Jinx is perfectly content to staple her stab wound back into place, an activity which doesn’t need an extra set of hands.

Jinx delicately removes the tarp from Vi’s shoulders, only briefly amused by the way her hair sticks out wildly before sobering at the blood shining on her chest and arm. Fuck. Okay step one.

Jinx drags her container of water over, takes a sip of it and allows Vi to as well. She then unscrews the lid and peers anxiously at the cut over Vi’s heart. It’s so tacky with blood she can’t tell if it’s actively bleeding, and she can only vaguely discern some type of ink behind it. She’s decided to prioritize the open wounds before whatever is going on with Vi’s leg, arm and…ribs? The way she’d trying to keep her torso screams hurt ribs to Jinx.

“This is gonna hurt, and your shirts gonna be fucked.” She warns quickly, before pouring the water down the cut. She brings her washcloth up to the wound, wincing as she tries to dab debris out as gently as possible. Once she’s satisfied the area is at least clean adjacent, she picks up her bottle of alcohol and pauses before applying it.

Just above Vi’s heart, Powder tattooed in dark ink. Part of the cut slices through the words, and fuck, isn’t that symbolic?

Vi had tattooed her name above her heart. The hand that’s holding the alcohol begins to shake so badly that Jinx has to grab it with her other to keep it steady.

“Nice tattoo, sis.” Jinx can barely force the words out, and they sound more broken and honest than she wants right now. Jinx presses the open bottle against the rag before tipping it, dousing only a select area with alcohol. She hesitantly moves it across the cut, mouth dry with anxiety and sympathy. She knows exactly how painful it is to pour this shit on an open wound. But she can’t exactly start stitching Vi up before she cleans it. Besides, this is the only injury on Vi she actually knows how to deal with. The fucking grape coloured leg is going to be a whole other problem and a half.

“This is gonna hurt, and your shirts gonna be fucked.” Powder adds quietly, voice full of concerned sympathy, before swiftly dousing her cut in water. It doesn’t hurt as much as the alcohol is probably going to, but with the unfocused state Violet’s in, she has to bring far too much effort forward to stop herself from gasping.  

Vi is intimately familiar with the line where trying to keep yourself quiet and composed through pain stops, where you start crying and whining and screaming like a little girl no matter how much you might be determined not to. Everyone begs at one point- that’s something the fucking warden had fun with teaching her- it didn’t matter how tough you were or how many fights you won- everyone had their breaking point, their final stop before they started fucking pleading and praying with bare coherence.

She’d like to say she’d eventually gotten over that point, eventually moved through and past it. She’d like to say that she’d never made anyone else experience that- never pushed another living person to that point and kept going- never enjoyed it.

Vi rapidly blinks through the pain of getting her wound cleaned out, focusing wobbly on the gentle skittishness of her sisters fingers, of the sheer and utter care shining honestly through Powders naked expression.

Violet is once again struck with how much she doesn’t deserve this.

Powder unscrews the lid from her alcohol bottle and dips her cloth in, bringing it up slightly and focusing once more on Violets wound before suddenly halting all movement. For a few seconds it doesn’t even seem like her sister even breathes, eyes wide and pupils tiny, mouth open slightly.

Vi glances down shakily, frightened that she’ll look down only to see that her skins peeled off entirely or something and she somehow didn’t notice, only to be met with the sight of her normal skin. Her normal skin- now mostly clean and proudly showing her tattoo.

Oh. Oh.

Vi winces slightly, sympathetically remembering the emotions that had overwhelmed her at the first sight of her sisters’ own tattoos.

Powders arm starts to shake and she grips it steady with her other hand, skin practically white and shoulders stiff and still.

“Nice tattoo, sis.” Powder says, the words shaking and spilling, lungs sounding like they’re full of broken glass and jaw tense. She sounds like she’s about to cry, which makes Vi emotional enough that she has to look up and away, blinking quickly.

Her attempt to keep her eyes dry is in no way helped by the sudden application of alcohol- the burn is sharp and intense, and Vi gives up totally on keeping herself quiet- at this point, it’s more important to keep herself still- to stop her body from automatically flinching into itself, from curling into a small ball completely.

it feels like someone’s shoving the warden’s stupid overgrown stick into her open wound and digging it around, and she can her herself wetly gasp and pant, voice high and pathetic as a few pained whimpers escape her mouth.

It still stings for a few moments, even after Powders stopped treating it, and Vi lets herself pant and close her hot eyes for a few seconds to compose herself. Shit, that cut must have been fucking deep. No wonder she was feeling woozy.

“T-thankss’…I-I g-got-“ Vi has to stop to take a breath, words even more slurred than before. “…Youh’ to- I-I didnn’….I’m sorry for- I’m sorry I couln’ come when you used it.” Vi pushes out, the words almost burning worse than the alcohol had, tears freely escaping her closed eyes- much to her own horror.

She tries to put herself together, she really does- arm moving up clumsily to press at her throbbing ribs, but the pain doesn’t do much to ground her, only seeming to make the shaking worse. She doesn’t want her sister to see her like this- it goes against every second of every year she spent becoming the one others could lean on, but the fucking misery of imagining her own baby fucking sister lighting up the torch and having no one fucking come for years and years and years-

She never stood a chance.

Jinx drops the bottle of alcohol, hands fluttering around Vi’s shoulders as she begins to sob. Oh god. Oh god oh god what the hell was happening-she’d said something about not being able to come when she used it? Was this about not being able to-oh. The smoke signal.

She wants to reassure her ‘no worries, I never even used the thing’ but she knows if she starts talking about the smoke signal she’s going to break down. On her worst days, curled up in pain and grief, she’d needed the hope of it. Needed to think ‘Vi would come get me if I used it. Vi would tell me she loved me, and she would hug me and I won’t have to train everyday anymore, or fight Ekko, or pull glass out of my skin’. If she’d ever used the stupid thing, she knew she’d be done for. If those blue clouds had dissipated over the undercity and Vi hadn’t come running she would have shattered like a dropped plate. So, she’d tucked it away and tried desperately not to think of it. Not to think of Vi giving it to her, not to think of how she could have used it and been reunited with her family if she hadn’t ignored her and blown them all up.

When she’d been Powder and newly orphaned (again) she’d sat in the room Silco had given her and tried to ignore the fact that she’d have to spend the rest of her life without Vi. She’d cried when she realized that the day she’d killed her family was also the last day she’d ever spend with any of them, had stayed up late begging for the sun not to rise. She’d sobbed so much she’d made herself sick, throwing up bile and shrieking until her voice gave out.

In retrospect, Silco must have really been regretting some of his life decisions at that point.

Jinx pats Vi’s shoulder lightly, eyes watering sympathetically at her sister’s tears.

“No, no, no, shh it’s okay. It’s okay!” Oh god red alert what the hell was she doing what the FUCK was she supposed to do here. What did she want when she was sad? Jinx bit her lip, kneeling right in front of Violet.

“Y-your safe, Vi. Your okay, your safe-” Oh! Scrambling from her position she crawled to her ammo bag and dug through her cartridges. She may have forgotten to bring first aid to her rescue mission, but she had brought-

“Bunny!” Jinx pulled out Vi’s stuffed rabbit, smoothing down his ears out of habit. She usually stored him carefully in her room, but the possibility of actually seeing Vi again had cause her to impulsively bring him along. Jinx shuffled back to her spot, placing Bunny impossibly softly into Vi’s lap. “Look, see you’ve got your rabbit!”

Hm. That probably wasn’t going to fix the horrible wheezing noises that Vi was making. Every tear that squeezed from her sisters tightly closed eyes felt like a bullet to her chest. Searching for one more reassurance, Jinx happened upon a very old memory. It was faded and vague, but the feeling of safety and warmth that emanated from it still shone through. Jinx grabbed Vi’s hands gently, rubbing her thumbs in circles against her bloody knuckles.

“It’s-It’s okay Vi. Nothing’s gonna get you while I’m here.” She whispered, eyes watering.

Powder’s hands tap reassuringly against her shoulders, and in between the blurriness of her tears Vi can see the panic in her expression. It would be almost funny in a sort of morbid way, but somehow it just makes her that much sadder.

“No, no, no, shh it’s okay. It’s okay!” Powder promises with a flustered voice, grey eyes flicking around Violets body nervously, looking for an off button maybe. “Y-your safe, Vi. You’re okay, your safe-” And fuck, Vi can’t handle this- can’t handle anything about any of this. She’s not supposed to do shit like this, and she hasn’t seen her sister in five years, and fuck what must Powder think of her?

She’s safe- Powders right- except she hasn’t been safe in years, except she never thought she’d ever be safe again, never thought she’d ever hear her sisters voice again- and it’s all catching up to her suddenly, the weight of her sisters presence crashing into her like a wave.

“Bunny!” Powder crows triumphantly, and Vi opens her eyes to the sight of her sister crouched a few steps away over her bag, hands wrapped carefully around-

Violet feels her breath leave her body all at once, eyes widening and throat aching. Powder gently sooths back Miss’s ears, actions well practiced and fond. 

Powder brought Miss. Powder fixed and cleaned her and clearly cares for her- and fuck, when had she retrieved her- had she cuddled her worn fur to her own tiny chest and pretended the stuffy was Vi the same way Violet had done when their parents died?

Powder shuffles back into her spot, smiling hopefully and placing Miss onto Violets lap with a tender sort of carefulness that makes Vi want to scream.

“Look, see you’ve got your rabbit!” She proclaims, and it’s so loving, so childish and simple and affectionate and Vi hasn’t held miss since before prison, since the day she got stuck between the wires and Violet had prayed longingly up at her, hoping just this once that someone would come back to her.

Vi tucks the stuffy into her chest with her good arm, throat bursting with the excruciating pain of keeping the horribly embarrassing sobs trapped in her chest. She tucks her face into the rough softness of Miss’s fur, and suddenly she’s seven and her mother is laughing as she dances the rabbit around, giving her silly voices and signing songs, and suddenly she’s ten and she’s biting into Miss’s arm so that her crying doesn’t wake up her sister, and suddenly she’s twelve and she’s letting Claggor hold her bunny because the stray dog he was taking care of died feeling a new weight in her chest, and suddenly she’s nineteen and her sister is scarred and skinny and skittish like a wounded cat, and she broke her out of jail and brought her somewhere dark and warm and all the love and all the grief and everything she’s ever put away because she couldn’t afford to feel it is bursting to the surface.

Powders hands are achingly gentle and kind as they cover hers, fingers soothing the cracked valleys and fissures of her knuckles.

And then she says-

“It’s-It’s okay Vi. Nothing’s gonna get you while I’m here.”

And the wail that never got to leave her throat in that alley soaked in blood and firelight explodes out of her.

Vi cries like she hasn’t in- like she hasn’t.

Her body is stiff and sore and tired, but she doesn’t even hesitate to lean forward and tenderly wrap her hands around her sister’s arms, hands brushing soothing shapes into her sisters skin before they wrap around her sides and curl against her narrow back. She brings them together gently, nestling her forehead into her little sister’s scrawny shoulder and brings up one hand to stroke through her tangled hair.

Love feels like it’s pouring out of her, like it’s filling the room and drowning the both of them in it- and Miss lays curled warmly between the two of them, and Violet suddenly can’t believe she ever spent one day, one minute, one second away from her- cannot wrap her mind around her own ability to not simply lay down in the corner of her cell and rot.

“I-I love you- I love you Pow-Pow- I-I love you so m-much, and I- I’m s-sorry- I’m sorry, I love you I-“ Violet sobs, the motions setting her fucked up ribs off in an explosion of pain that seems so tiny and pale in comparison to the bloody tearing she’s feeling inside her chest.

“I- I know we- It’s been so lon’ and we- w-we’re both so differen’ but- I fucking love you okay! I never stopped, not even fucking once, and I never fucking will and- a-and your my sister and- f-fuck you’re all grown up and I did’n get to f-fucking see it-“ Vi can barely get the words out over her messy crying, and she’s probably getting tears and snot and blood all over her sisters top and she’s holding Powder tight enough that it’s probably painful for both of them, but she can’t get her fingers to unclench- she imagines a crowbar would shatter like glass against them right now.

Jinx doesn’t expect Vi’s reaction somehow. Doesn’t expect the wail that builds in her throat and escapes from her mouth like it’s been waiting patiently. Doesn’t expect the way she curls into her bunny, the way her shoulders shake like a building coming down. Jinx barely has a moment to react before Vi is wrapping her into a hug.

Muscled arms around her, rubbing circles into her back, the feeling of shaking breath against her collar. The smell of Vi’s hair against her nose, dust and grease and river-water. Vi reaching a hand into Jinx’s hair, running her fingers through the tangled blue locks. Jinx chokes, an odd, gurgling sound half expelled from her chest before she grits her teeth stubbornly together. She lets her head fall against the top of Vi’s, neck bent like it’s been injected with led and iron. Her throat stings, and taking in breath feels like speaking, like pleading. It’s uneven, grasping, broken.

They sound like the dead weeping together.

“I-I love you- I love you Pow-Pow- I-I love you so m-much, and I- I’m s-sorry- I’m sorry, I love you I-” Vi begins, her voice slashed and torn and ripped apart. It’s a terrible monster, love. You can’t hide from it, can’t turn it into hate, or some more useful emotion. For so long love has felt like grief. It feels like grief now.

She loves her. Jinx loves her too, loves her like broken bones and stories in the dark of a blanket fort, like hands clutched together in the ash and smoke of death, loves her like the sky-wide and open and stretching so insurmountably it’s unbearable. Loves her like an alleyway in ruin.

She wants so badly to say this-but she can’t speak, can barely take in breath in-between sobs. She just has to hope it reads through her heartbeat instead. I love you I love you I love you, like the raising of her lungs.

“I- I know we- It’s been so lon’ and we- w-we’re both so differen’ but- I fucking love you okay! I never stopped, not even fucking once, and I never fucking will and- a-and you’re my sister and- f-fuck you’re all grown up and I did’n get to f-fucking see it-”

Jinx makes a low hurt sound. She locks her arms behind Vi’s shoulders, holding her wounded form up, maybe, or pulling down beside her.

“I ne-I never stopped either.” She cries, words jumbled and cracked and laying between them like blood. She presses them closer together, ignoring the complaints of her wounds, of Vi’s own injuries.

“We’ll see it now, we’ll-we’re together again. I’m gonna watch you become some-some crinkly old lady.” She laughs but the sound has the same cadence of a cry.